


Along the Moonlit Path

by AriadneKurosaki



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Halloween, IchiRuki Week, Kon is a cat, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: He turns right at the corner and instead of finding himself on the sidewalk back toward his house, his right foot lands on a path formed from white chrysanthemum petals. “What the hell?” he says out loud. He wonders if he’s hallucinating. Ichigo pulls his cellphone from his front pocket and taps the screen, but there is no service and the numbers on the digital clock display just blink “00:00” repeatedly.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42
Collections: Ichiruki week





	Along the Moonlit Path

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: IchiRuki Week Halloween bonus
> 
> I'm not entirely sure what this is. An exploration of the afterlife? Something that turned oddly sad instead of just being smut?

On Halloween, the boundaries between the worlds are thin, easily broken and crossed. Strange things happen in Karakura Town that defy explanation on Halloween night. Foxfire dances through the trees and ghosts are said to visit their loved ones – and sometimes their enemies. There are reports of visitations and every year at least one person claims to have been bitten by a vampire or a werewolf. Sometimes there are reports of rituals to summon demons and other creatures from beyond the boundaries. It keeps the police busy, anyway.

Ichigo doesn’t care much about any of that mess. Sure, he can see ghosts, but he sees them every day of the year and he’s gotten used to it. Their existence may mean that other beings walk the streets of Karakura as well, but _he’s_ never seen anything other than souls lingering by lampposts and stoplights, or by bouquets of long-dead flowers tied to wire fences.

So, unlike some people, he doesn’t mind walking outside late on Halloween night, long past the hours when little children shriek as they run from house to house wearing everything from superhero costumes to princess and tiny doctor’s outfits. He took his nieces out trick-or-treating earlier, pinch hitting when his little sister Yuzu pulled the night shift at the hospital. They’re safe in bed, possibly in candy-induced stupors.

He doesn’t care much about the fact that the streetlights are a little dimmer than they should be, or that there’s a chill in the air that seeps through the leather jacket he wears. Ichigo doesn’t care about any of that at all, because he’s following a _pulling_. It’s a throb in his chest and an ache in his heart. He doesn’t know what it means; it’s a ghost, maybe, or maybe he’s just being ridiculous. He turns right at the corner and instead of finding himself on the sidewalk back toward his house, his right foot lands on a path formed from white chrysanthemum petals.

Ichigo turns; the street behind him is gone. When he turns toward the path again, he can see that it stretches far into the distance, a ribbon of white leading him onward. Instead of the modern houses that make up Karakura, trees surround him on all sides. A white moon glows full overhead. A few minutes ago it was a waxing crescent.

“What the hell?” he says out loud. He wonders if he’s hallucinating. Ichigo pulls his cellphone from his front pocket and taps the screen, but there is no service and the numbers on the digital clock display just blink “00:00” repeatedly. His eyes widen and nervously he scrubs a hand through spiky, tangerine-bright hair. There is nowhere to go but forward, and so Ichigo walks along the flowered path through the forest. His feet kick up the white petals but there seems to be no end to them; when he digs his foot through them, he can’t seem to reach concrete.

The path winds through the tall trees around him as Ichigo walks it, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his dark cotton jacket as he goes. The white petals gleam in the moonlight, as though the path itself is glowing in the darkness. The whole situation is just damned _weird_ , and Ichigo wonders for the first time whether he should have believed those stories about the thin places between the worlds.

He hasn’t seen another person in what feels like hours when Ichigo follows the path along a sharp curve. He nearly runs over the woman before he sees her, and Ichigo’s heart stops in his chest. “Rukia,” he whispers, and the woman turns.

“It’s been a long time, Ichigo,” she acknowledges. Her voice is a low and pleasant alto, just as he remembered it. She is just as petite as he remembered, too: the top of her head barely reaches his shoulder. Her eyes gleam dark amethyst in the light of the moon. A white kimono wraps around her form, held in place by a plain black obi as dark as the hair on her head, which Ichigo can see is so long that it falls below the small of her back.

“Where are we?” he asks, but Ichigo doesn’t really care what the answer is as he looks his fill of her. _It’s been five years_ , he thinks. Five years since she vanished, leaving Karakura without a trace. Five years since he’s seen her, since he’s been able to touch her.

The look in her eyes is otherworldly as they meet his, and Rukia’s lips purse gently. “We’re in the in-between place. You shouldn’t have been able to get here,” she explains. “But the veil is thin tonight, and you’ve always seen further past it than you should.”

All Ichigo wants to do is reach for her, but she is so _other_ as she speaks. So he says, “All I did was turn right and the white path showed up under my feet.” Then he looks down at her and his voice is hoarse as he adds, “You left me.”

The words make her flinch. “I didn’t have a choice.” Her words are sharp, but Rukia looks away from him. “I didn’t belong on your side of the veil.”

“And you belong here instead, by yourself?” Ichigo can’t help but ask. There is no one else here, as far as he can tell. There don’t even seem to be any birds or wildlife. Just Rukia, standing alone beneath the moon on an endless path of funereal flowers.

She scoffs at him, but looks up again, eyes soft. “It’s my duty. I guide the dead to the afterlife,” Rukia explains quietly. “Not everyone gets lost along the way…but enough do. Tonight, when the veil is so thin, the path is empty.”

Ichigo scowls down at her. “But you spent years in Karakura,” he points out.

“I did. I slipped into the between-place at night,” Rukia acknowledges. “But I couldn’t keep denying what I am – and it wasn’t fair to you, to hide it.” She looks him over, arms crossed over her chest. “You haven’t changed much, other than a little white hair in that orange mop.”

“I’m turning thirty next year. A lot of people start getting white hair around then,” Ichigo protests.

“Well, as long as your wife doesn’t mind.” Rukia smirks as she says the words, but there’s something in her tone that sounds _jealous_ – unnecessarily.

“I’m not married,” Ichigo tells her. “Where the hell did you hear anything about a wife?” He does reach for her this time, because the pull of her is just too strong. She has been ever-present in his mind for the five years of her absence, a light amid dark clouds and pouring rain. His arms slide around her and hold her tight against him before she can protest.

“I assumed you’d settle down with someone like Orihime.” Rukia doesn’t pull away from him; instead she softens against him, and her arms slip around his waist. Ichigo wonders if it’s the first time she’s been held since the day she left Karakura.

But the comment about Ishida Orihime can’t go unanswered. “She looks like my _mother_ ,” Ichigo says with such a moue of disgust that she laughs. “And anyway, she’s been married to Ishida for three years. We all missed you at the wedding.” He watches her as her body relaxes in his arms – just a very little, as though his words have chased away her jealousy. But the words about the wedding – well. Ichigo refuses to feel guilty. But he does tighten his arms around her.

“Hn. Well, good. I hope they have half a dozen children and years of happiness,” Rukia huffs. She rests her head on his chest, the way she used to before she left him behind.

“We could have that too,” Ichigo says suddenly.

“Idiot. I just told you I’m not human. My duty is to guide the dead,” Rukia scoffs at him. She pulls back but not away to look up at him. “I should get you back to the other side of the veil.”

Ichigo just shakes his head. “Does duty mean being here, alone, forever?” He reaches down and tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear. “You said yourself that I’ve always seen further into the veil than I should,” he says quietly.

“But you’re still _alive_. Being able to see ghosts is different than being a guide,” Rukia argues.

Beneath them, chrysanthemum petals rise and blow around in an unseen wind, scattering across the dark forest floor to one side when the wind dies down. “It is,” Ichigo agrees quietly. “But don’t tell me you haven’t felt the pull of you to me. It’s what I followed to get here tonight.” Then he leans down and kisses her.

Her body shivers against him and for a moment Ichigo thinks she’ll pull away – but instead she sinks into him, mouth softening beneath his and arms clutching him tighter. He drags her even closer, one arm tightening in turn while the other cups her cheek. She is so soft against him, the feel of her so _familiar_ , that tears prick at the corner of his eyes and Ichigo can’t help the way he deepens the kiss and licks into her mouth. He wants to show her what _five years_ of longing has done to him; he wants her to see that there has been a hole shaped like _her_ in his life since the morning he woke to find her gone.

The petals flutter into the air again, and when they open their eyes there is another path, one that leads away from the first at an angle. This one is short and perfectly straight as Ichigo looks at it, then down at Rukia. “What does that mean?” he asks quietly.

Her cheeks are flushed, and they darken further as he looks at her. “It’s the path to my home here,” Rukia explains. “It…sometimes the path in the in-between place seems to have a mind of its own.” She pulls her arms from around him, but even as a spike of hurt finds its way toward his chest she slides her hand into his and guides him along the gleaming path.

The flower petals change as they walk: no longer the funereal chrysanthemum, they turn blue and are much smaller. Ichigo leans down and scoops up a handful. “Forget-me-nots,” he says before he lets the petals drift back toward their feet.

Rukia’s cheeks are bright red. “As I said…the path sometimes has a mind of its own.”

Before Ichigo can say more they have reached the end of the path. Rukia’s hand comes up and she reaches forward. A door opens before them and she leads him inside. Automatically he slips out of his shoes and she does the same, leaving her barefoot and him in socks.

Unlike the wild forest outside, the place they enter is warm and inviting. It looks like a modern apartment in Karakura – like _his_ modern apartment in Karakura, Ichigo realizes – and smells faintly of spices and of _Rukia_. The floor beneath his feet is wide-plank wood, pale gray in color, and the ceilings are a little higher than the ones in his place. But the furniture is similar: there is a sleek but soft-looking sofa in dark blue, with a fluffy white throw blanket draped over one side of it, and a low coffee table of white lacquered wood. A soft rug, darker gray than the floor, covers the area around the sofa. The windows are the same as his apartment, although the view outside is very different: just the moon and a glimpse of the white path amidst dark trees.

As the door closes behind them Ichigo turns in place and he sees the kitchen, nearly-identical to the one he cooks in, and the dining table that looks much like his. He already knows where the doors against the far wall lead: one to the bathroom and the other to a bedroom. “This looks…” he says, and his eyes meet hers, amber to amethyst. “This looks like my place in Karakura.”

The color in Rukia’s cheeks deepens. “I liked your apartment,” she admits. “I wanted…”

“You wanted it to be our apartment, once,” Ichigo finishes for her.

“I did.” This time it’s Rukia who leans up to kiss him. Ichigo doesn’t hesitate: when she is breathless against him and he against her, he leans down and lifts her into his arms to pull her closer against his chest, and something within him relaxes as her arms loop around his neck.

* * *

Rukia never expected to see him again, at least not unless he got lost on his way to the afterlife, but somehow…somehow Ichigo is _here_ , in the home she dreamt of sharing with him. He doesn’t _belong_ in the in-between place, she knows, but even for someone like her it has been a _long_ five years without him. And the spirits that walk the paths she patrols aren’t exactly talkative: most of them are scared of what lies ahead or exhausted by their journey.

But Ichigo – Ichigo is _here_ , lips on hers. She is in his arms, held tight and warm against him as they kiss, lips brushing and tongues finding one another as they press closer. Rukia knows that she should get him back to the living world, but – the path appeared before them for a reason. It turned into forget-me-nots for a reason. And she thinks, _maybe I am being allowed one more night to tell him goodbye._

He carries her past the living room and kitchen as though he owns the place. Technically he does, after all; Rukia’s mind created her sanctuary to mirror the life she almost had with him. She opens her eyes and watches Ichigo nudge the door to her bedroom open with his foot. The bedroom is like the one they shared five years ago: soft fabrics in gray and blue hues and a bed big enough for both of them. There’s even an orange cat sleeping at the foot of the bed.

Ichigo nearly drops her when he sees that, and he just barely manages to set her down gently instead. “Kon?” he asks softly.

The cat raises his head and lets out a soft brrrrt in greeting as Ichigo steps past her to reach out, hesitantly, and let Kon sniff his hand. The bright orange feline bunts his head against Ichigo’s hand, _hard_ , and Ichigo scoops him into his arms and turns to look at Rukia as Kon purrs loudly and climbs onto Ichigo’s shoulder so that he can rub his head against Ichigo’s neck and cheek.

“Cats don’t get lost on their way to the afterlife,” Rukia explains gently. “Cats, dogs, other animals – they don’t even come this way most of the time. But Kon…” She steps closer to him and reaches up to pet the brightly-colored tabby. “Kon turned up outside my door a little more than a year ago.”

There are tears in Ichigo’s eyes as he looks at her, and his free arm – the one not stabilizing Kon on his shoulder, wraps around her. “That’s…” His voice is a little rough. “That’s when he died, yeah. I’m glad he found you.”

It probably makes a strange picture, she thinks: a guide for the dead in a traditional kimono, a living man who can _see_ the dead, and his (their) dead cat, all hugging each other. But it feels _right_ , too, and Rukia hates that it will have to end soon. But for a few more hours, it can be – soft, like this. Warm like this.

Ichigo leans down to kiss her again before she gets too lost in her thoughts, and though it’s bittersweet, she doesn’t want him to stop. As the kiss deepens and Ichigo gently urges her closer to the bed, Kon gets the hint and clambers down, flicking his tail at them both before padding into the living room. The door closes behind him, and Rukia laughs faintly. “He learned that he can close doors here,” she explains when Ichigo raises an eyebrow in question.

“Clever,” he agrees. Then he runs a fingertip along the upper edge of her obi and says quietly, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Rukia agrees. She reaches up and pushes his jacket from his shoulders; Ichigo lets it fall to the floor behind him and leans down to kiss her again, hand sweeping up her back to cup her cheek once more. Though it’s bittersweet, though she only has a few hours, she urges his hands toward her obi even as she unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton the jeans he wears.

Ichigo uses nimble fingers to untie her obijime and then unwrap the obi from her waist. When the silken black fabric lands on the floor her kimono falls open, revealing the white nagajuban she’s wearing beneath it. His hands push the kimono from her shoulders and she lets it fall to join the obi. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers into her mouth and then kisses his way down her neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

The words heat her cheeks and Rukia unzips his jeans; he reaches down and shoves them off, letting them join the growing pile of fabric at their feet. She pulls away and when Ichigo’s brows furrow, she whispers, “You need to take your shirt off.”

Ichigo grins at that, and tugs both his sweater and the undershirt beneath it off in one smooth movement. Those fall to the floor too, and he reaches for the sash holding on the near-translucent white fabric of her nagajuban. “This needs to come off too,” he murmurs in her ear, and in a trice the sash is unknotted and the white cotton is hanging open, revealing her underwear and the wrap tied around her breasts.

Rukia wonders briefly how Ichigo knows exactly where to unknot the wrap, but all thoughts of that leave her as he reaches around her to pull down the covers of her bed and then divests himself of his boxers before guiding her onto the soft sheets. He follows, lips finding hers again, and when his body presses warm against hers she sighs, arms wrapping around his neck and body relaxing against his. She remembers this; remembers the warmth of him on her and the way they fit together.

As their kisses deepen Rukia shifts beneath him, legs falling open to give him room. It makes his lips smile against hers and she gasps as his fingers find the center of her, blunt but nimble as his hand slides into her panties and then cups her. It sends a little shiver of pleasure through her and she holds him tighter as he brushes one finger over her slit.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I missed touching you. Missed seeing the way you react when I do this.” His fingertip nudges her clit, just lightly, but she gasps against his mouth. “Just like that.”

It’s been a _long_ time, and Rukia squirms beneath him. “Don’t tease,” she orders, and throws her head back to moan as he slides two fingers between her lower lips and strokes, ever so gently, against skin already wet with her arousal.

“Hmm…don’t worry. I remember what you like.” Ichigo kisses his way down her neck and along the curve of her breast as his fingers continue to stroke, teasing just at the sides of her clit. He takes one nipple into his mouth, making Rukia arch and moan against him as he sucks until it’s hardened into a tight, almost painful peak. Sharp pleasure tugs at her as he does the same to her other breast, stroking all the while.

“Oh – _Oh_ , don’t stop,” Rukia demands, and Ichigo raises his head to look at her.

“I won’t,” he promises. Abruptly he pulls back so that he can slide her underwear off and down her legs, letting them drop to the floor with everything else. When he settles himself between her legs again he lifts her ankle onto his right shoulder as he kneels and slides his hands beneath her. “Trust me,” he whispers against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver. “I won’t.” Then his hands tighten on her ass and he lifts her to him even as he lowers his mouth to her pussy and drags his tongue along her skin so that Rukia arches up for more.

True to his words he worships her with his mouth, lips and tongue hot on her skin while two fingers slip into her, thrusting first slowly and then speeding up when Rukia’s mouth drops open on a moan. No one has touched her since their last night together, and Rukia is so _sensitive_ that every lap of his tongue, every slick thrust of his fingers, has her arching up toward him and demanding more of him. It doesn’t take long for her to reach her peak and fall over it, inner walls clenching hotly around his fingers as he licks her through the heady pleasure of it, hands still keeping her against his mouth.

She reaches for him, and Ichigo legs her leg down before he joins her back at the head of the bed. His lips find her neck and he whispers, “Let me make love to you? Please? I need you so much.” When Rukia wraps her hand around his cock his mouth drops open on a moan and he gasps out, “I won’t last long if you do that.”

“I – didn’t think it was so long for you,” she admits. Ichigo scowls at her and slants his mouth over hers, hot and searing as he kisses her.

“There’s no one else,” he swears. “There’s never been anyone else.”

The words make her flush again – this time with both arousal and a dose of shame. Her disappearance has left him _lonely_. And well – it’s left her lonely too. Rukia hooks her leg around his hip and Ichigo doesn’t need any more urging: he rubs his cock, already thick and hard, against her to coat himself in her arousal. But then he turns her so that she’s on her side and sinks into her from behind, one arm sliding under her leg and taking its weight so that she is open for him. The first thrust of his cock into her draws gasps and a moan from them both. The stretch of him feels so _good_ , feels perfect as they move together.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers as he thrusts into her, stretching her wide and making Rukia moan her pleasure into the air around them. Ichigo leans over her and captures her lips even as he pumps into her, making her shudder with the pleasure of it against his chest.

She doesn’t know how long they make love like that, her fingers stroking her clit and his cock thrusting up into her. Rukia is caught in the haze they’ve created for one another, in the stretch of her around him, in the sparks of pleasure when Ichigo changes the angle of his hips and the head of his cock finds the spot inside of her that has always made her moan the loudest.

But it’s over all too soon: with one last stroke of her fingers against her clit she comes, pussy tightening and clutching around his cock over and over as the pleasure of it rocks through her. He pumps into her in the short, sharp, erratic thrusts that she knows means he’s close until with one last weak thrust, he moans her name and empties himself inside of her. He kisses her again, sloppily, and pulls her tight against him.

When they untangle themselves a few minutes later Rukia tucks herself up against him, and Ichigo wraps his arms around her. “I love you,” he whispers into her lips.

Tears leak from the corners of Rukia’s eyes as they meet his. He brushes them away even as she whispers back, “I love you too.”

When Rukia wakes it’s close to dawn. Ichigo must have tugged the comforter up during the night, as they’re cuddled together beneath it. She’s not surprised – it gets cold in the in-between place. Kon has joined them again as well; when she lifts her head she can see him sleeping atop the covers between them, paws tucked beneath his head. It’s so sweet that her heart aches with it – because it’s over. She has to get Ichigo back to the living world before the veil is fully shut.

“Morning,” Ichigo whispers beside her, and smiles at her as his eyes open. He reaches his hand up to cup her cheek and Rukia leans into him, eyes meeting his before she closes them against the prickle of tears.

“We need to get you back to your own world,” Rukia announces. “If you don’t cross back over, you’ll be stuck here – and living humans don’t belong here.”

“Don’t make me leave you alone here.” Ichigo’s voice is pleading as he looks at her. “I can already see ghosts. I can help you with your duties somehow.”

The thought of it warms her, but Rukia knows that it’s not to be, and so she pulls away from him gently. “We need to get cleaned up and dress.”

Kon hops back off of the bed and saunters off as they rise. Ichigo’s hand finds hers and he twines their fingers together. She aches at the thought of letting him go, and when he leads her into the modern shower in her bathroom she doesn’t object. Instead they bathe each other in silence, and if the water on their faces mingles with a few tears, she pretends not to notice.

They’re both dressed when the door to her home flies open, the pale light of dawn streaming inside.

“Abarai,” Rukia manages, stuttering over the word.

For before them, wearing a white kimono with a blood-red obi and black obijime, is a man with crimson hair pulled into a high ponytail that ends in spikes of differing lengths. His eyebrows and head are tattooed and so is his body. “Kuchiki,” he greets suspiciously, before stepping inside. “You have a _living human_ here with you.” He sniffs the air and Rukia flushes – though they’ve bathed, she’s sure he can smell the lingering scent from her bedroom.

Beside her, Ichigo tenses up, and though he’s just a human his arm comes up in front of Rukia as if to defend her. “So what?” he demands.

“So you don’t _belong here_ , ryoka,” Abarai snarls. “You stink of the living world.”

Rukia puts her hand on Ichigo’s arm, gently, and pushes it down. “I was just taking him back beyond the veil,” she says placatingly.

“Too late for that. You’ve been summoned. _Both_ of you,” Abarai says with a sneer. “And you’ll be jailed for a _long_ time for consorting with a living man.” Kon hisses at him, then, from his place on the sofa, and Abarai reaches forward to grab for the cat.

Ichigo gets in his way first and twists his arm. It looks _painful_ , and the way Abarai grunts Rukia’s sure he must feel it. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re damned weak if you’re going after a cat.” He shoves the taller man away, all the way back out the door, and looks at Rukia.

She covers her mouth with one hand. “Ichigo, this won’t end well,” she whispers.

He just holds his hand out to her. “If I have to, I’ll break you out and we’ll make a run back through the veil,” he offers.

It sounds crazy, but – something about the way he says it, the way his eyes look into hers, has Rukia taking his hand. They slip their shoes back on and step outside, standing back on the forget-me-not path. “Fine. Lead on, Abarai,” she orders.

The crimson-haired man sneers at them both and instead of walking down the path he shoves a glass ball at them both. When it touches them, the world tilts around them. Rukia blinks and they are in a different place. Her brother is there, elegant in his black robe and crimson obi, and so is a white-haired man with kind eyes, Ukitake Juushiro. Kyouraku Shunsui is there as well, and Rukia suppresses a sigh of relief. Maybe they will understand that she just needs to get Ichigo back to the living world.

“How interesting,” Shunsui opines as he circles Ichigo. The flame-haired man raises an eyebrow but holds his tongue – thankfully. “A living man, here. But – there is something different about you, isn’t there?” he asks.

“Maybe. I can see ghosts,” Ichigo says casually. He wraps his hand around Rukia’s and doesn’t let go even when she shoots a glare at him. The look in his eyes says _trust me_ and she wonders what the hell he’s doing. “And I got here on my own.”

“That’s rich. No _human_ has ever been able to get here by himself. Rukia must have snuck you in,” Abarai sneers, but shuts up at a glare from her brother.

“I turned right down a street and the chrysanthemum path showed up in front of me,” Ichigo says with a shrug. “I was following something that pulled me here. Pretty sure it was Rukia.”

_That_ makes Shunsui grin, and Rukia grits her teeth. She’s going to get jailed, she’ll never see Ichigo again, she – 

“Since I got here on my own, you might as well let me stay. And another thing – when Rukia left the living world you all just left her to live by herself in the middle of nowhere and walk up and down a long-ass path looking for lost souls. Who decided that leaving your guide for the dead by herself for years at a time is a good idea?” Ichigo demands.

Forget jail, they’re going to _kill_ them both, and Ichigo will have his brain wiped in the afterlife and they’ll scatter her ashes into the void.

“Oh, yes I see,” Ukitake says suddenly, voice kind. It stops Rukia’s spiraling train of thought. He looks between them both and smiles. “You’re a guide’s child, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“And another thing, this asshole tried to attack a _cat_ and—I’m a what?” Ichigo splutters to a stop.

“Isshin’s, if I’m not mistaken,” Shunsui drawls. “He has the right temper. And Isshin was always the best at getting through the veil.”

“And that means – what?” Rukia asks. She feels Ichigo’s hand tighten around hers. Maybe they’ll just be separated. Maybe she won’t get thrown into the maw of the void.

Ukitake and Shunsui exchange a look, and then they both look at Byakuya, who sighs heavily. “If this Kurosaki Ichigo is a child of Shiba Isshin, then it is not surprising that he is able to see ghosts or find a hole in the veil,” he says evenly. “As such, he has a choice.”

Ukitake smiles again. “You may choose to become a guide as well, Kurosaki Ichigo. Or we can send you back to the living world, and you’ll forget that this ever happened.”

Ichigo tugs Rukia closer to him. “If I become a guide, do I get to stay with Rukia?” he asks.

Byakuya sighs again. “You are very forward with my sister,” he complains mildly.

“She’s the love of my life,” Ichigo points out, and Rukia’s cheeks heat. Ukitake is hiding a grin behind his hand – poorly – and Shunsui looks ready to fan himself. “Afterlife. In-between life. Whatever.”

“You see it, don’t you Byakuya?” Shunsui asks, and he’s grinning again. “Don’t know how it happened, but your sister and Isshin’s son’s fates are tied up in each other. We’ll just have a mess on our hands if you get your hackles up about it.”

Byakuya sniffs. “I do not _get my hackles up_ about anything,” he points out stiffly. Ukitake has to hide his face in his hands to stifle his laughter.

Finally, Ukitake recovers himself and smiles at Ichigo. “Yes, if it is Rukia’s wish, you may stay with her.”

As Rukia’s eyes widen and she looks at her three superiors, she thinks: maybe, just maybe, nothing terrible will happen at all.

* * *

The path between this world and the next is said to be lined with white chrysanthemums and patrolled by two guides who lead the dead to the afterlife. One is a petite woman who wears a white kimono and a gentle smile as she guides the spirits of the departed to their new home. The other is a man in a black kimono with hair like a flame. He is less friendly than his fellow guide, but known for being particularly gentle with the souls of children. Sometimes there are sightings of them in Karakura town on Halloween night, and if the Kurosaki clinic is the focus of the very first sighting of them, well. It’s only natural that Ichigo would bring his bride home to meet his family.


End file.
